Stories for When the Sun Goes Down (Sexy Anthology)

by Lily Harlem

  “You could, I don’t mind,” I said, fluttering my eyes shut.

  “But that’s not the show our audience want,” he said, almost gruffly. “Lay down, Cassie, let me build you up with my fingers and my tongue.”

  A quiver rippled through my pussy. Jake’s tongue on me was always a one-way trip to Heaven.

  “Here,” he said, positioning me on the edge of the bed, facing the camera. “Now open your legs, wide.”

  Sudden bashfulness besieged me. Open my legs, to the world. Jesus. Jake had been the only one to see my pussy, touch my pussy for years. And now, just like that, open your legs, Cassie, and let goodness knows who see all your damp folds, creases and your hole.

  “Do it.” His voice was firm. Not mean firm, firm to remind me that this was what I’d promised.

  Slowly I parted my legs, stretched my knees wide and felt the air wash over my lips and cool the delicate skin of my pussy. My heart was thumping so hard I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears.

  “That’s it, good girl,” Jake said, sitting next to me, his cock standing to attention. “Just a little… bit… more.” He eased my thighs wider still. “Give them what they want.”

  How come he didn’t seem to care that the world could ogle his dick? I was sure there would be women watching. Wouldn’t there?

  A sudden realisation dawned on me. It was what Jake had said. He was proud of me, wanted to show me off. Well, I was bloody proud of him too. He was hot stuff, had a body to die for and a cock worthy of worship.

  I slid my finger over the tip of his cock, felt his body stiffen next to mine.

  “Easy, baby. I am so damn close to shooting my load as it is. This is fucking horny.”

  “Ah, Jake, you wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of everyone, now would you?”

  A strange growl erupted from his throat. I wasn’t sure if he was frustrated, angry or seriously turned on.

  “Let’s get you close to coming too,” he said, slipping his fingers between my legs and stroking over my clit.

  Hastily I reached for his forearm to support myself. I was so hot for his touch and he’d got me just right, just where I needed it. I groaned and stretched my hips wider, ensuring he had maximum access.

  “Ah, yeah, so damn wet,” he mumbled, slipping from the bed and dropping to his knees between my legs. “Come on, open right up and we’ll give your audience a good show.”

  He licked me, from my entrance up into my pubic hair and then all the way back down. The movements of his head exaggerated, on purpose I was sure, so that voyeurs would know exactly what he was doing. I gripped his hair, tangled my fingers in the messy locks and stared straight at the camera.

  I parted my mouth, caught a gasp and held it there. Oh fuck, he was circling my clit with the taut tip of his tongue. He knew I wouldn’t last long. That I would come undone in less than a minute.

  I writhed and bucked, pulled his hair, shoved onto his face then pulled back.

  “Fucking hell, you’re horny,” he said, shifting to the side. “Come and ride me, let’s really give them something to get excited about.”

  “Shit, do you think there are people getting off on this, watching us?”

  “You can bet your life on it, but not half as much as I am.” He stretched out on the duvet, cock pointing up at the beamed ceiling. “Climb on, baby, give them an Oscar-winning performance.”

  I glanced at the camera again, the unblinking eye at the centre. What must we look like? Hot and desperate for each other. A seemingly private, intimate act in our bedroom broadcast to every corner of the Earth. Is that what turned people on, the fact that they thought they were seeing into a couple’s private life?

  Jake gripped my wrist. “Fuck me, baby, like you’re never going to get enough of me.”

  “I’m not,” I said, crawling up the bed and positioning my pussy over his cock. I adored penetration from this angle. I would sit on him so deep he nudged my cervix and I got that full feeling in my belly and throat.

  Jake spread his fingers on my thighs, and as I took him that first inch he pressed his head into the pillow and moaned.

  I rested forward, my hands on his pecs. He could take my full weight on his chest no problem, and I sagged a little as the stretch in my pussy reached burn level.

  “Ah, yeah, go for it,” he said.

  In a swift move that rendered my spine boneless I dropped fully.

  Jake cried out, so did I, the intensity almost enough to make my breath stop. Fuck, he was so damn big, it didn’t matter how many times we fucked, the tightness was always exquisite.

  After a few, delectable seconds regaining my strength and adjusting to his size, I sat upright. Began a luscious slow grind with my hips that caught my clit just right. Working it over his pubic bone and letting his cock rub my G-spot.

  “Cassie, oh fuck, you look incredible. And you’re all mine. I’m so proud of you.”

  I couldn’t answer, I was lost to it. Fucking Jake, him letting me take control of pace and depth was something I’d missed of late. I stared up at the ceiling, let the pressure bloom. My orgasm was there. Just one more thrust.

  Fuck.

  I came.

  I tipped back, pressed my hands on his thighs and let the climax ravage me. My face was hot behind the mask, my rapid breaths making it humid.

  “Oh, Jake,” I cried, “come now, with me.”

  He shot forward, wrapped me in his arms and gave an almost violent upward surge. A roar escaped his lips. Pure male and raw.

  My pussy clamped around him as warmth hit my core. I scrabbled and scratched at his shoulders, went to kiss him but was hindered by the mask. I still tried.

  “Oh, Jesus. I feel like my balls have been drained.” He was panting hard. “That was so crazy hot seeing you like that, knowing I wasn’t the only one watching you get off as you rode me.”

  “Turn the camera off,” I said breathlessly.

  He hesitated, then, “Okay.”

  Carefully, he lifted me from his cock, set me on the bed and got up to turn off the camera. His back was coated in a sheen of sweat. There was also a line of scratch marks from my nails in that last moment.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, is it definitely off?”

  “Yep.”

  I tugged at my mask, reached for his and dropped them both on the floor. “I want to kiss you,” I said, touching my mouth to his.

  I felt him smile against my lips and he toppled us onto the bed.

  I laughed and stretched my body over his. “Was that a good promise?”

  “Amazing,” he said. “I’m so proud of you. I didn’t think you would be up for it.”

  “When have I ever said no to you?”

  He touched the tip of my nose with his index finger. “You haven’t ever done anything you really didn’t want to, have you?”

  I smiled. “No, not at all. I love that we have so much fun on my days off now. In fact, I think I may have to buy another book of those vouchers.”

  “Only if you want to.”

  I pushed up onto my elbows and looked down at him, touched a lock of his hair that was stuck to his forehead. “Yes, why, don’t you?”

  “Baby, I just want you, vouchers or no vouchers, and the best promise you ever made was to be my wife. The others are just icing on the cake.”

  A Classic Wedding Night

  The air was heady with the scent of wild summer flowers. Translucent seeds floated on a meandering breeze and calls of congratulations tumbled after our flamboyantly decorated chaise and four. I gave a final demure wave from the window and spotted Lydia’s jovial face amongst the crowd. Her shrill voice rose above even mother’s theatrical crying so exuberant was she in her excitement for us.

  Adjusting my new white bonnet, I settled back on the leather seating and crossed my ankles beneath my floor-length wedding gown.

  “Have you enjoyed our day, Elizabeth?” A concerned glint caught in my new husband’s dark eyes and his h
eavy eyebrows dropped so low they touched above his nose.

  “I can honestly say this has been the happiest day of my life,” I replied.

  The three neat lines permanently etched into his forehead softened at my smile. “It’s certainly exceeded every day of my life so far,” he said, taking my fingers into his palm. “Although the day I was introduced to you was more special than you will ever believe.” With the pad of his thumb he traced a feather light circle on the back of my hand.

  My skin sparked at his tender touch. It was as though butterflies had landed on my flesh and sent a string of delight fluttering up my arm. I swallowed tightly and averted my eyes. I hoped I wasn’t blushing as I was so annoyingly prone to. “But we could hardly bear to be in the same room,” I managed. “Our behaviour towards one another was so abhorrent it fills me with shame to recall?”

  “Shall we not quarrel on that subject again, my dear?” His lips pulled into a straight line and his deep voice took on an authoritative tone. “The mistaken premises that both our conducts were based have been laboured through in fine detail. It is my wish to clear the slate and move on.”

  I nodded, only too keen to agree to his request.

  A silence extended between us in the sultry, evening heat though Darcy continued to pattern my skin with his thumb. The servant preceding the carriage urged the horses up a pace and we bumped away from the merriment at a hasty trot.

  I looked across at him as he observed Pemberley now dominating the horizon. I couldn’t get enough of absorbing his perfect profile and had sneaked peeks at him all day between polite conversations with our guests. His angular nose, square, tilted chin, and proud forehead was exactly how a man should be. Was he really mine for all of time? How lucky could a girl of my means get? Six feet two and over two hundred pounds of lean, masculinity all in love with me. He was utterly perfect.

  So why on the happiest day of my life was I in such turmoil? I guessed it was the way all brides felt. Nervous but also excited at the thought of what would undoubtedly prevail when the sun set. All brides who’d saved themselves that is. Which I, like Jane, most certainly had. She’d tried to ease my anxiety, reminded me of Darcy’s gentlemanly disposition and well-bred manners. But the way I had, in unguarded moments, caught him watching me had my body trembling from the inside out. On these occasions his eyes had flashed with an emotion I was unfamiliar with and a muscle above his jaw line had flexed as his gaze followed me around the room. He had drawn to mind a determined, stalking wolf. I was the innocent prey, and he the predator, a very hungry, very strong, very dominant predator.

  “You look worried,” he said and I realised he was watching my study of him.

  I squeezed my knees together. Blood was pooling deep in my belly forming an insistent tug. A hunger of my own was growing but I wasn’t sure what could satisfy it, what would feed it. “I am perfectly fine,” I lied. “Just a little tired after all the excitement.”

  “Then we shall retire early.” He swept his tongue over his bottom lip coating it with a sheen which glistened in the sunshine filtering into the carriage. “I think we have eaten sufficiently to keep desire for food at bay until morning.”

  His hand tightened around mine and his fingertips pressed onto the delicate underside of my wrist. A shiver claimed my stomach and a tiny drop of sweat formed in my cleavage. I’d thought we would have hours before our meeting in bed. But it seemed my husband had other ideas and as his bride it was my duty to be there―waiting, willing and ready.

  The bedroom we were to share as man and wife was as huge as Pemberley’s magnificent drawing room. Towering ceilings, expansive windows, and a fireplace so large a horse could have stabled within it quite comfortably. A vast bed with four mahogany posts stood against the far wall, gold tassels held back acres of scarlet material and a taut roof of the same jewelled shade hung overhead. Stacks of luxuriously embroidered pillows had been carefully angled to showcase their exquisite designs. Several long black swan feathers and a scatter of blood-red rose petals had been sprinkled on the silken sheets in honour of our wedding night.

  I watched in silence as my new waiting lady drew me a deep, steaming bath before a roaring fire. Excitement and anxiety filled my thoughts as I looked into it; a confusing mist of emotions swirling the way the vapours were drifting from the milky water. One hour he had said. Then he would come to me.

  The young maid hovered by my side wringing her hands, eager to please. Her presence strained my already frazzled nerves and I dismissed her after she had undone my wedding gown and folded it over a bronze gilded modesty screen.

  As I sank into the water, right up to my shoulders, I knew it had been the right thing to do to be alone. My apprehension lifted as the sugary perfume of fresh lavender filled my nose and the sound of the crackling fire mellowed my angst. The evening twilight gave the room a dreamy glow and I stretched out fully pointing my toes to the base of the long, metal bath and arching my back.

  The water danced around my body tickling already sensitive patches of skin and the fragrant heat soaked into my muscles and bones. I ran my hands over my breasts and watched my petal pink nipples peak above the water line. I washed between my legs touching soft little hairs and intimate folds of flesh. What would it be like to have a man, Darcy, touch me there? The thought was alien, unknown, I couldn’t imagine it, but now I was a married woman I knew the knowledge would be mine to behold by morning.

  I stepped out and towelled myself vigorously. Still tingling from the heat, I slipped on a nightgown the colour of snowdrops. Delicate pale green silk ribbons secured it at the chest and the neck line hung daringly low. Jane had helped me choose it on our trip to town; this was the first time I had worn it. Should I wear drawers? Yes, it would be improper not to mention presumptuous if I didn’t. I pulled on a new pair, the material crisp and stiff against my water softened buttocks and thighs.

  From my hair, I detangled the flowers my sister’s had carefully arranged only hours ago and scattered them on a polished mahogany dresser. I slid a wide toothed comb through my chestnut locks until they gleamed lustrously and flowed down my back.

  I glanced at the mantel clock. It was nearly time. Should I ring and have the bed turned down? No, I could do that myself. Although on second deliberation maybe I should lie on the top, surround myself with the petals and feathers like a presented wedding gift. Would Darcy appreciate that? I wasn’t sure. I could stand by the window, or even the fireplace? Perhaps read a book in the armchair. My head spun as I considered the options. I started to walk to the bed then changed my mind and returned to the heat of the fire even though I was far from cold. I curled my bare toes into the tightly woven hearth rug and hugged my arms around my middle.

  A sudden, invasive rap at the door echoed around the lofty space and halted me in my nervous fidgeting. It was time. Darcy was here.

  There was another knock, impatiently hard.

  “Come in,” I managed to call.

  The door swung open before the words had tumbled fully from my lips and he stood, partially silhouetted in the door frame with his eyes sweeping the vast room. His black hair was a little more ruffled than when I had left him at the threshold. His linen undershirt was un-tucked and his bottle green cravat hung around his high neck collar like a scarf. His presence filled the doorway and flowed into the bedroom, invading the space and owning the territory and all it held—including me, his wife.

  He spotted me, stepped in and with a flick of his wrist the door slammed shut. The air sucked through the room and a blazing log shifted in the grate sending a shower of crackling sparks into the chimney.

  My fingernails dug into my palms, tiny crescents of pain to concentrate on as the colour was driven from my face.

  He took several ground eating paces towards me, snapping the cravat from his neck as he approached. Without taking his eyes from mine he threw the garment on a high-backed chair which he passed at speed. The sharp clicking of his elegant boots silenced as he stepped onto the
hearth rug and within seconds he was only inches from me, reaching out for me. I started to take an involuntary step backwards but big, rein-calloused palms captured my cheeks.

  I steadied my feet as he tilted my head and forced me to look up into his eyes. My breath hitched, my heart stuttered. Their black depths were hotter than the fire by my side, burning with the same predatory emotion I had seen before, but this time it was un-harnessed and undisguised in its scorching intensity. He was showing me his naked desire, his demanding lust. There was no need to hide it, not now we were wed.

  “Elizabeth,” he murmured in a tense voice I barely recognised.

  His gaze dropped to my parted lips before our mouths connected for the second time—the first having been at the alter a few hours earlier. My arms hung limply at my sides as he held my face. Time stood still. All I could think of was the hot, hard pressure of his lips moving against mine and the feel of his warm breath washing over my face. He smelt so different from the floral scents my sisters and I used; manly and musky, clean sweat and the earthy leather tang of horse tack.

  His lips grew more insistent and the tip of his tongue probed into my mouth. My eyes widened. His, I saw, were tight shut and his brow had furrowed deeper than ever in concentration. He tipped his head for better access and dipped his tongue in again, past my teeth this time. Hot and wet and inquisitive he searched my mouth, exploring every tiny part of me as I was invaded with the malty oak flavour of a whiskey he must have drunk whilst I was bathing.

  Gingerly, I lifted my tongue from the base of my mouth and connected it with his. A deep rumble vibrated up from his chest and then our tongues tangled in a crazy dance. His breath quickened and his hands tightened against my cheeks. I grew bolder as our tongues waltzed, lifted my hands to his corded forearms and hung on to hold my feeble body steady. I shut my eyes only to be greeted with shooting stars. If this was what kissing Darcy would be like for all of time then I had surely died and gone to Heaven.

  “Elizabeth…” He stopped kissing me, dropped his hands from my face and took a step nearer the blazing fireplace. “Please forgive me.” Self-reproach stitched through his tone. He raked a hand into his hair and agitated it at the nape.